


Amnesia

by Warped_Alignment



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Memory Loss, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warped_Alignment/pseuds/Warped_Alignment
Summary: Set after S6 E8 Tabula Rasa, Spike doesn't remember a thing. But William does.
Relationships: Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris/Anya Jenkins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. William

Buffy grinned as her memories came rushing back. She guessed they were under some kind of spell, since she now knew exactly who she was. She killed three vampires, and turned around to see how Spike was doing, only to see him being pinned down by a large, and quite angry vamp. She quickly staked him, looking around, checking for nonexistent stragglers. She then turned back towards him, helping him to his feet.

"Thank you, my kind lady. Now, if you don't mind dearly, could you please tell me where I happen to be?" he asked, sounding a lot like Giles, with a posher accent (if that was even possible). She wanted to laugh, but the genuine confusion on his face told her that he was being serious, and probably had no idea what was going on. Maybe he hadn't got his memory back yet? Although, with his voice and mannerisms, it seemed more like they had only partially came back, and it was unnerving her, to say the least. 

"Come on Spike, don't be stupid, and what's with the accent? Fine, I'll play along. You're in Sunnydale, you know, the hellmouth?" She knew this would jog his memory (provided the whole thing wasn't a joke), but was startled with the response,

"I'm sorry, My friend, but I have no idea who you are talking about. What sort of a name is Spike? My name is William. William George Pratt." He extended a hand to her, which she frowned at, but shook nonetheless, "I don't remember much. I remember- I was with my..a friend, and then I was rather upset, and then...I don't know. I think there was a woman? Gosh, she must've been so scared when those monsters appeared. Is she ok? Where did you say we were again?"

"Sunnydale, California." 

"California?! How on God's green _Earth_ did _I_ end up in America? And where's mother? Did I bring her with me? What about-" He was cut off by Buffy, who had a question of her own. 

"Spike- I mean, William, can you tell me what the last day you remember was? It's kinda important."

"Th..The twenty....second..of December?"

"And what year?"

"The year? Well, 1880, of course. Why are you asking all of these peculiar questions?"

"Umm..I need to take you to see somebody. Come on." she grabbed his arm, but he shrugged her off. 

"No. I don't even know who you are, and whilst I am grateful for you saving my life, I need to know more before I just leave with you."

"My name's Buffy. Buffy Summers."

"Buffy? What an unusual name. Now I _know_ we're in America. Have you ever met my cousin? She moved here only a few months ago. I wonder how she's doing, maybe that's why I'm here..."

"Er-I don't think it's likely that I've met _your_ cousin."

He seemed slightly offended by the suggestion,"Well, it's more common than you'd think, actually. I met many Americans when I visited London. It must be all of this new trade. Messing up the world. I swear, the world's gotten much smaller as the time's gone by. I'm sorry, am I going on? I feel like I am. Gosh, it's just slightly daunting to realise that you're in a different country, all of a sudden. What on earth happened?"

"Trust me, I have no idea." 

-

Willow had begun tidying the magic shop, and waiting for Buffy and Spike to return, so she could officially apologise for her reckless behaviour to the whole gang. She had been so blinded by love, she couldn't see sense. She knew using magic so insistently, using it every single day, and for every minor inconvenience, had drastically changed her. And she couldn't help it, but it was what was happening. She sighed, grabbing a tattered book, and placing it on a pile of those which required repairs as she pondered whether they'd ever forgive her.

A few minutes later, Buffy burst through the door, Spike in tow, and pulled Giles over to the side, telling him something Willow could only guess. As it turns out, she didn't have to, since everyone but Spike were quickly ushered into the training room shortly afterwards. 

"What's going on? Why are we hiding from Spike?" Dawn asked, confusion mirroring exactly how Willow felt, and Buffy ignored her, turning to Willow. 

"What spell did you perform on us?"

"Er-it wasn't meant for you, I was- erm, it was a spell for memory, but I think I didn't empty the fire before I started it, and it all went wrong, but we've all got our memories back, so it's fine, all right?" She desperately wanted them all to forgive her, but Tara couldn't look at her, Dawn and Buffy looked angry, Xander and Anya seemed slightly frightened, and Giles looked downright disappointed. 

"No. It's not all right, Willow. Magic is not to be trifled with. And not everyone has gotten their memories back." He glanced over to Spike, who was pacing the other room, and Willow bit her lip nervously.

"He doesn't remember anything?"

"Oh no, he remembers everything in his life." Buffy responded. 

"Oh?"

"Yes, but the thing is, he doesn't remember anything after he died."

"Umm..Isnt he supposed to be, like 150 years old or something?" Dawn asked. 

"146, actually. But apparently, he only remembers 27 of them," Giles replied.

"So...That means...he's missing just under 120 years of memories?" Dawn supplied, and Giles nodded, his own face pale. 

"Does he know he's dead?" Anya questioned. 

"No." Buffy firmly responded,"He barely remembers Drusilla, so I doubt he even knows he's been turned. He doesn't even know what vampires are, not fully anyway."

"How do we tell him? There's no way he's going to take it nicely, I mean, everyone he knows, and the world as he knew it, is gone, and he can't even remember where it went." Dawn spoke sharply, and Buffy nodded.

"I'll tell him," Willow offered, but Buffy frowned at her. 

"I think you've caused enough damage to him already. I know you didn't mean to, but if you are the one explaining, as well, it might get..rough."

"I'll do it!" Dawn said, "I mean, I'm probably his favourite, so if one of us is going to make him remember, it'll be me, right?"

Buffy seemed to think this over, looking to the others for another volunteer. Tara seemed to notice, "I'll do it, if you like. I'm quite good at telling people things they don't want to hear."

"Thanks Tara," Buffy sighed in relief, "I'm sorry Dawn, but you're too young."

"But-" she was cut off, "No. Tara should do it."

"Buffy, I think I should at least help Tara. Please. Besides, I know the most about his life."

"No you don't! Giles does! Right, Giles?"

"No. Unfortunately, his past would be a mystery, since people weren't brave enough to ask about his previous life whilst they were running from their lives." 

Buffy sighed, relenting, "Fine. You and Tara can go and tell Spike he's dead, but he won't take it well, I promise you." She sounded worried, biting her lip, and Willow felt nervous too, both of them standing in the doorway as the other two left. 

-

William had been waiting for about twenty minutes, when two girls entered the room. One of them seemed older, possibly the same age as him, with short golden hair and crystals hanging loosely from her neck. The other girl was smaller, and seemed younger, possibly a teenager, with dark brown hair. They both smiled at him, the younger one with a lot more enthusiasm, which reminded him of his sister, who he decided not to think about, as tears pricked his eyes.

"Spike!" the dark girl exclaimed, hugging him tight. He found himself smiling at the gesture. They both took a seat at a table, and gestured for him to do so as well, and he obliged, sitting across from the other two, running his long fingers through his hair, and noticing it wasn't as long as he remembered, in fact, it seemed almost slick with some kind of gel, and quite a lot shorter than he had anticipated. 

"My name isn't Spike, it's William. I'm sorry I'm not who you keep mistaking me for. I-I'm very confused, in fact, and I'm not quite sure what's going on. I was in London the last time I remembered, and now I'm here, and there were these things attacking me, and everyone's wearing strange clothing, I cannot for the life of me find a mirror which works, and all I want is to go home, but I don't even know how to get there. I want to go home. Can I go home? Please?" Tears spilled out of his eyes, and he buried his face in his hands as he begged to go home, a place which no longer existed.

The younger girl moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaning on his shoulder. He didn't shrug her off, but straightened up, wiping his tears away. 

"Well, William," The blonde girl started, "My name's Tara, and this is Dawn. I know it's hard to believe, but you know us. You're our...friend." The pause was long enough to deduce that she was hesitant to call him a friend, for unknown reasons, but he ignored it, seeing as it wasn't his most important thought at the moment. 

"I forgot you? Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. My memory _is_ a bit fuzzy. Did I know the girl who saved me, too?" The young girl, Dawn, nodded. 

"She's my sister. Buffy." He nodded, remembering the name,

"Yes, I recall she had a distinctive name. Well, if I know you, you can probably fill me in on a few things." The two exchanged a look, and he noticed that there was something they were refraining from telling him, "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?" Tara shifted in her seat, and Dawn moved her chair away again.

"Er..William?" Tara asked, and he nodded, "We have something you need to hear, bit it isn't going to be easy." He smiled at the two of them, showing he was ready, even if he had no idea what they were about to reveal. 

"The creatures you saw outside? They were vampires. They suck the blood from their victims, and if you drink their blood after this, you die and become a vampire. They live forever, but don't have any souls." Tara stated. 

"Except some!" Dawn added, and Tara agreed, "Yes, except some."

"And my sister is the slayer. She slays the vampires, to stop them from making more, and from feeding on defenceless people." Dawn added, helping Tara. 

"Well, that's both awful, and great. But how does any of this relate to me?"

Tara went bright red, but Dawn caught his eye, backing away, but managing to get a few words out, 

"Because you're one of them."


	2. Tamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William asks about spike.

William's mouth went dry and his knees shook under the table. He was sure if he hadn't been sitting down, he'd have collapsed by now. He felt the colour drain from his cheeks (if there was any to begin with) as he searched for a nonexistent pulse. A wave of dizziness enveloped him as tears rolled down his cheeks, and he envisioned his mother worrying about him, only to find him dead. The pain was unbearable. _Maybe they were still alive?_

"H-How long have I been dead?"

"119 years."

His face paled and jaw dropped as his head spinned viciously and his brain stopped working. His head was hot and fuzzy, and he was sure he was hyperventilating, but had no awareness of anything, not noticing the cup thrust in front of him, and the slayer being sat a few inches away from him. 

"Hey," she whispered, pushing the cup towards him, "I thought you might be thirsty." she smiled at him, but seemed confused at her own expression of happiness at the sight of his face.

"Thank you. What is it?"

"Blood." 

The thought of drinking blood turned his stomach, and he frowned at the thought, but it smelt almost familiar, and made his mouth water eagerly. He picked the mug up, swirling the thick liquid around the cup, before taking a sip. It was warm, and slid down his throat with ease, giving him strength, tingling throughout his whole body with a release of energy and a fire he'd never experienced before (or he had, but couldn't remember). He gulped down the rest of it, and felt an urge to drink more, to drink a person, to lose control, and he might've done it, too, but he knew he helped them before, and something within him told him he wasn't to touch any of them, that he didn't need to feast, and even that it was not what he was meant to do so. His face morphed back, and he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

"So, if you are the slayer, why haven't I been slain? I am a vampire, correct?"

"Correct." She nodded, and he raised an eyebrow, "You were more useful to me alive." she admitted, trying to look nonchalant. 

"I was?"

"Yeah, I guess you were. Not you, but the other you."

"-and what is this other me like?"

"He's..tougher. He fights. A lot. He wears excessive leather, and thinks he's the best. He's arrogant, and always goes into things without a plan, but has enough luck to get out unscathed. Most of the time, anyway. He seems stupid, quite often, but he's actually really smart, although he never uses his brain. He does things based on what he feels like, and doesn't ever think of the consequences. In many ways, I think you guys are different, but in a lot more ways than he'd care to admit, I think you are similar."

"Wow. He sounds..complicated. And you call him Spike?"

"Yeah." She didn't elaborate on why, so he continued interrogating her. 

"So why did he help you? From what I've heard, he sounds impulsive and annoying. Why would he help someone who kills his kind?"

"He was...tamed" she snorted at how much Spike would hate her saying it, and yet he was sitting there, with an understanding look on his face.

"Tamed?"

"Yeah. You see, a while ago, there was a military base here, called the Initiative, and they performed experiments upon demons, one of which was a behaviour chip, which punishes the person using it if they ever harm someone, so he couldn't bite any more. And we supplied him with blood, even though he still hated us, and eventually he found out he could hurt demons...and he decided to help us, in a roundabout sort of way."

"Huh. Well, he sounds...interesting. I should very much like to meet him. I don't know how I became him, I must've had someone to help me, since I doubt I am capable of achieving _that_ alone. But how was he useful? When you helped him to begin with, what made you do it?"

She smiled at him, "We knew he was going to be helpful, he was already thinking like one of us. Like I said, he acted how he felt. Not upon right or wrong, like us, but on more basic wants. But I knew he'd come around."

"Did he?"

She shrugged, "You'll find out. Anyway, can you remember anything now?" He shook his head, and Buffy frowned, turning back towards the door, and beckoning the rest of the people into the room. He smiled halfheartedly at them all, wondering how long they'd been waiting for him to stop panicking and questioning everything, and his smile turned into a grimace. Dawn sat next to him, smiling sweetly at him, and drawing out a genuine smile, when an older man stepped up. 

"Well, William, we think we may know what happened to you." The red-haired girl standing next to him seemed to hide behind the man, and William noticed everyone was glaring at her, and considered she must have had a role in it. The older man stepped away from her, pushing her forwards, and urging her to speak. He gave her a reassuring look, since he knew she mustn't have meant to do it. He knew many people who had made mistakes, but had a habit of forgiving anyone before they made their apology, providing they looked sorry enough. He knew he was doing it again, and cursed himself for it, but listened to hear what she had done. "

"Umm..I'm Willow. I'm the one who made your memories disappear. It wasn't on purpose, of course." He nodded, and she flashed an appreciative smile, " I am a witch, and so is my girlfriend, Tara. We have been arguing lately, since I've been so dependent on the magicks, I used them for everything I had a problem with, even the smallest one, and today we had another argument, and I tried to wipe her memory, which backfired and made us all forget everything. The crystal I was using was stood on, and we all got our memories back. All of us..except you."

Demons, witchcraft, and now...homosexuality? William couldn't help thinking about how his mother would have a fit if she knew what he was doing, but he had never had an issue with any of these things. He had always had an open mind about everything, knowing that there was often more to life than it seemed, and often writing poems to this effect, which often did more harm than good, since no-one talked about these kinds of things, or of women being in power, nor men supporting strong women, and not the other way around. Possibly, now he was in another time, people had accepted these ideas, and maybe his poems wouldn't be called 'bloody awful', and be reduced to simple love poems which were always rejected, but simply sighed, smiling up at the redhead and nodding as if he understood it all with complete clarity, when in reality, it was quite possibly the complete opposite. 

"I believe that we may all have been granted with our mortal memories, and your memories simply need to be recalled to your body, to allow you to become..Spike again." The older man spoke up, wiping his glasses as he spoke, before quickly returning them to the bridge of his nose. 

"-And you are?"

"Giles. Rupert Giles." He seemed to be British, which was comforting to him, in a way. He seemed to hesitate before asking for him remember, which made William wonder if they didn't want him back, which was quickly voiced by a boy at the back.

"Does he have to change back into Spike?" Then added, "Hi, I'm Xander, by the by." He nodded, and Giles thought for a moment, and shook his head.

"No. He doesn't _have_ to become Spike, but what you have to remember, Xander, is that William _is_ Spike. He may not remember it, but that is who he is, fundamentally. In fact, William was probably always inside Spike, but this persona, if you will, has not been in use for several decades, probably due to the fact that he was a demon, who couldn't afford to care about things."

"So Spike..is me? Does that mean I am Spike?"

"Not yet you aren't, that would develop over time, with the right circumstances, and possibly Angelus' help, but yes, you are, in essence, Spike, or a version thereof."

"But none of you like him, do you?"

All of them looked at each other, shaking their heads, when Dawn patted him on the arm, and nodded, "I liked you. Or Spike. It doesn't matter, really. You're the same person anyways."

The others looked both shocked and horrified at the notion, but he smiled, glad for the small girl. 

"I didn't..tell you stories, did I?" She nodded, leant forward, and whispered "Are you ok?" He nodded, sighing heavily as a single tear rolled down his cheek. She wiped it away, hugging him tight. 

"Anyone wanna tell us what's going on?" Xander asked, and the girl next to him agreed, linking arms with him. 

"No!" William quickly responded, "There's nothing to tell. She knows something I obviously entrusted her with, but didn't trust you enough to tell you, so why should I now? I trust her, and I find myself to be an excellent judge of character."

The Englishman had been collecting books as they were talking, and placed about ten large books on the table, calling the witch over, and thrusting a few upon her. 

"So, which type of memory spell?" Willow peered at the books, and picked three from the piles, placing the others back on the shelf. 

"It was a memory purging spell, using Lethe's bramble, but it went wrong somehow." Giles looked from the girl to the window, seeing the pitch black sky and considering how long it would stay that way, frowning slightly. 

"We should go back to my house, and do the reading there. We don't want to be stuck here in the morning, there are too many windows." He offered a small smile to William, who wasn't well versed on the mythology of vampires, but assumed it must've been something to do with him, offering a polite smile to his fellow Englishman, and following the others to their cars. Everyone offered him a space, and he decided to ride with Dawn, her timid smiles seeming to be the most genuine out of all of them, and an instant feeling of trust being felt towards the girl, and hopped into the driverless carriage, feeling slightly uneasy about the contraption. 

Dawn rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, seemingly sensing his thoughts, and whispered gently into his ear,

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay."

_'Everything's going to be okay' she told him, attempting to reassure herself more than her brother. She gave him a feeble smile, and he pulled her closer, holding her tight, scared to let go, as if she would shatter to a million tiny pieces if he didn't. She didn't resist, wrapping her arms around his body, and attempting to hide from the clattering noise, the footsteps on the stairs, growing closer and closer. He felt her trembling in his arms, which only made him grip tighter, determined to protect the small, trembling child from the horrors that awaited them. But he couldn't. And he knew this, but he had to try._

Now, sitting in the car, 130 years older than the 16 year old boy who hid in his room, William felt equally as young, and equally as protective of the brunette child, smiling sweetly at the girl, and nodding at her kindness, 

"I know. I'll make sure it is."


	3. Blood is thicker than water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William cooks bread.

Tara woke up to a mouth-watering smell. It smelt warm, and homey, sweet and fresh. She remembered the smell, and deeply inhaled, shaking the others, who each took in the scent on their own, smiling at the delicious scent in the air. 

"What is it?" Buffy whispered, looking around for the source, not being nearly as observant as usual, in her half-asleep haze. She rubbed her eyes, and thought to herself, as Willow piped up with an explanation. 

"Bread. I think someone cooked bread." Giles nodded, agreeing with the witch's observation, and Tara took another deep breath of fresh smelling air, confirming for herself the others' suspicions.

Spike appeared in the doorway _\- No, not S_ _pike, William -_ holding plates with thick slices of steaming bread on them. He placed a plate in front of each of them, grabbing cheese and butter from the fridge after a moment of figuring out how to open it, and beaming as he handed each of them a knife. Buffy raised an eyebrow to Giles, but the smell of fresh bread overwhelmed her, and she quickly piled butter and cheese onto the warm bread, melting instantly. She held it unto her bread, and everyone looked at her with bated breath as she sunk her teeth into the slice, melted butter rolling down her chin as she did so, filling her mouth with a salty, fluffy and warm piece of freshly baked bread. She sighed happily, tucking in, as the rest of them followed, tucking in with an unencountered enthusiasm. 

Once they had finished, they sat on the floor, with a renewed encouragement, and hopeful thoughts, the group returned to their work, hoping he wouldn't forget how to make bread when they gave him his memories back.

-

An hour later, and the others had gone out of the room, leaving William and Giles alone, staring at the pages, no information soaking in. William decided to spark a conversation between him and his fellow Englishman. 

"So, why did you come here?"

Giles' head shot up from the book, giving William an annoyed expression, which he had the impression was directed at him a lot. 

"Why I came here? I'm a watcher, I had to look after the slayer."

"A watcher?"

"Yes, I am her watcher. It is a society, based in England. It is top secret, and highly regarded, and I was chosen to be Buffy's watcher. Until I was disowned, and replaced. I was reinstated last year, so I am once again her watcher, although in all honesty, I never stopped."

William thought for a moment, considering the man, and the way he talked of the set of affairs.

"She's more than a job, isn't she? It was an assignment, but she became more to you. She's like a daughter to you, isn't she?"

A smile appeared on the man's face as he nodded fondly, "Yes. She is. I couldn't have put it better myself. She's not blood, but..." His eyes widened in shock, and he flicked through the pages, "I think I've got it!" 

The others were soon gathered around them, ready to hear Giles' hypothesis. 

"What if we have been looking at it wrong? What if, to bring the demon's memories back, we must reinstate the demon?"

"Huh?" Buffy asked, leaning back in her chair, "What's that mean?"

"Well, ever since the crystal has been smashed, he has been acting rather...human, and whilst it is a refreshing change from his usual self, it is not Spike. Vampires are usually linked to blood, and yet, he hasn't wanted to drink any of us. He isnt a true vampire. We need to relink him into this, because the memories haven't vanished, but have merely been suppressed, since he finds them damaging."

"So you're saying...his thoughts have been censored?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. And his brain has decided to pin all of these on the demon, which means, in order to make him face his thoughts, he needs to face his demons."

"What do you mean?"

"We need to recreate the events of his transformation."

"So what do we do first?"

"First, we find Drusilla."


	4. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang hunt for Drusilla, although they don't have to look far.

Drusilla bit down into the girl's flesh, the warm blood running down the sides of her neck as she lapped it up happily. A sudden message hit her, throwing her slightly off balance, and losing her grip on her supper. The girl raced away, her long blonde hair bouncing as she gained speed. Drusilla grinned at the thought of a chase, but listened to the birds tweeting in the wind, and the universe whispering to her. It was so calm, and it told her of her baby boy. 

_Your precious William. He doesn't remember you. He doesn't remember the evilness he has done. He has to remember. He needs to revel in the souls of those he has taken, he has to bathe in the blood of those he has killed, so he can soar through the sky, and relish the reaping he has done._

Her dolly hummed as she danced around a puddle, hopping in it, and getting herself wet. Her dolly was so careless, jumping in puddles then she told it not to. _It should be punished. Everyone should be punished._

_-_

"No, I haven't seen Drusilla, not for a while. Still no luck with the William/Spike problem?" Angel asked. 

"Yes, we think we've got a cure, but we need to recreate Spike's death. Do you know where she could be?" Angel laughed down the line, making Giles jump at the uncharacteristic display.

"Giles, believe me, if you know you need Drusilla, so does she. If you want her, she'll be there, but she isn't as reserved as us two, so if I were you, you should wait for each evening train. She'll be there. Trust me." 

"Thank you, Angel. I'll keep you updated."

"No you won't." he responded, hanging up.

He was right. Giles had no plans to let Angel know of anything which happened to Spike. He never voluntarily let Angel know anything. It was too risky, since anything you told him would go straight to Angelus, as soon as he lost his soul. And besides, he never trusted him. A soul doesn't change that much in someone, it merely holds back everything you feel, and not even that deeply. Which means Angel already wanted to kill Buffy, even when he was dating her. And the only thing holding him back was a measly soul, which wasn't given voluntarily, but forced upon him. It was because of this, that Giles hated Angel. He always had, ever since he lost his soul the first time. He even regarded Spike as better than Angel, even though Spike didn't have a soul. Giles thought he was better because at least he didn't pretend to be anything but evil, and yet, he still did good things, regardless of having a soul, which had no gain to him. This both confused Giles, and made him feel better about Spike. He decided he hated Spike, but tolerated him more than Angel, who merely pretended to have feelings, hiding the demonic psychopath within. 

-

Drusilla licked her blood coated fingernails, finishing her snack off gently, and picking the whimpering, half-dead fluffy puppy off the floor. She shushed it, stroking its fluffy fur and bringing her demon face forward, smiling at the small creature before she devoured it. 

She picked fur out of her teeth, sitting down on a bench, feeling satisfied, but still hungry, reminding herself not to eat the people walking past, as she was having a big dinner. 

The boat shuddered, stopping right in front of her. A few people stepped off, but most stayed on board. She tucked her doll underneath her arms, hoping she'd find a child with a new one to add to her collection. The smell of contentedness surrounded her, making her gag. It was noxious, surrounding her. She stepped on board, her heels clicking upon the hard floor. She grinned, her fangs protruding from her face, growling, and drawing out the glorious scent of fear replacing the peacefulness of the boat. The man cast off, and she licked her lips. _God, she was going to be full tonight._

-

"No, I didn't manage to find her, but I think she'll come to us. Angel said that if Spike needs her, she'll be here."

"That's not very useful, though, is it, Giles?" Buffy was annoyed with Angel. It seemed that she always ended up annoyed with him, since he always spoke in cryptic ways, and even if he honestly believed that Drusilla would go there, how would they know where she'd go?

"No, I know, but it's Angel, you know how he makes you feel like everything is solved although you actually know nothing. But if he said she'll come, we have to assume she'll come, so keep an eye out for any suspicious tipoffs."

"This Angel chap sounds like a piece of work," Spike's-No, William's voice came from behind the counter, and Giles nodded, as he continued, "Are you sure he had no more information about how she travels? There must be a limited amount of ways someone could get here."

"Maybe he's right, Giles. I think he might have something here."

"Really? I thought you liked Angel."

"No, I mean about how she moves. Like, she doesn't have a car without Spike, so she can't be using one of those, so she'd either come by plane, boat, or train. She has used a train before..."

"Boat." William responded. 

"What? Why a boat?" Buffy asked, intrigued. 

"Well, because everyone knows what a boat is, and if she is as old as me, and possibly older, she would trust a boat more than she'd trust any of those other devices, no matter if she had used them before."

"Okay then, I'll get someone to cover each of the ports, so we can capture her before she kills everyone in Sunnydale."

Buffy nodded, "I'll get the stakes, in case she brought friends, and then meet you there. Sound good?"

Giles bobbed his head, and Buffy hurried out the door, which chimed behind her. 

-

Drusilla felt the slayer, with her hands all over her William. She was cheating him, stealing him away from her, and if she made him remember, really remember, all the good things, and the bad things that they did together, then maybe she could make him hers again. Maybe the slayer would leave him, if she saw who he really was. She knew he was bad, but she also needed him to see it too. The slayer would take her to her William, and she'd let her. She would be taken by the slayer, be hidden into her house, and then she'd bring her William back, take back what belonged to her, and make him evil again. She knew she could do it. She knew she could get him back, and so, with a newfound determination, and a mind filled with the fresh screams of the innocent, she parked her boat, and waited for the slayer to come to her. 

A few hours later, and there was a crash on the docks. Drusilla smirked, grabbing her dolly, now soaked with blood, off of a body. She climbed off the boat, hopping onto the decking, and waving to the slayer from a distance, a twisted smile on her face.

"There!" She shouted, and rushed over. Drusilla remained still, leaning against the pearly white boat, and smearing blood from her doll onto the paint.

"Hello, Slayer. Have you been a naughty girl? Getting rid of my poor William's thoughts? The ones with all the guts and blood and fun? Did you do it to make him good, and to make the whispers in his ears come back?" She smiled maliciously, trailing a finger across Buffy's ear, who swatted it away. 

"What do you know, Drusilla?"

"I know that the birds which speak to me are coming for you, and they'll peck all your eyes out, and dance around your blind body when he's gone. Peck Peck Peck Peck Peck" She giggled, glaring straight into Buffy's eyes as she laughed. 

"And what does that mean?"

"Take me to him, and I might save you. Or I won't. You'll do it anyway."

"What if I don't?"

"You will." she sighed, sitting down onto the boat, leaning back and staring at the shining stars in the sky, waiting for the slayer to make a decision she made years ago. 

"Fine. I'll take you to him. But the second you try to hurt anyone other than yourself or Spike, I will kill you, no matter if he never comes back." She pressed a stake against Drusilla's chest, and she giggled again, running her hands across Buffy's golden hair. 

"You'll try. But they'll protect me. They always do. They have to. Because I see everything. _Everything._ "

"Everything? Then you know I won't hesitate to kill you."

"If you could see, you'd know too."

"I don't have time for your games, Drusilla, we have to get back."

"You only have time for games, Slayer. That's all life is. A big game with worms and dirt and blood and gore and the sun which can kill us with one wrong move, and a lifetime of hurt and suffering which can easily be taken away, and the endless whispering of peoples and clocks ticking away. It's all a game really. All you want to do is to win."

"And how do you win?"

"You survive."


	5. Worse than Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drusilla tries to help Spike

William shot up as Buffy entered, holding a wooden spike unto the back of a young woman. He had the distinct feeling of recognition towards the woman, in both a exciting and terrifying way. His mouth went dry, and his legs urged him to run, but he stayed seated, holding his ground, and hoping Buffy could handle her if she tried anything. She was taken to Giles, who told her something over and over, the repetition seemingly annoying her, but she controlled her frustration, allowing him to tell her what to do. Once he had told her, he pointed to William, and left the room, Buffy trailing in his wake, and leaving the two alone. 

Now he started to panic. The woman sat across from him, and his knees trembled as he watched her, waiting for her to say something. 

"Don't be scared, my William." He shook his head, supposedly telling her that he wasn't, but his shaky fingers, and paler face gave him away, making her tut and move closer, "You needn't be scared, I wouldn't hurt you. The slayer would" she spat the word out, as if she was disgusted it even reached her mouth, glaring towards the door Giles and Buffy had disappeared behind.

"I-I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of the demon within you." she laughed as if he had told her the funniest joke she'd ever heard, much to his dismay. She drew closer, pushing her fingers through his hair, and stared into his eyes. 

"The demon is no less me than I am, and she keeps us strong. Are you scared of your demon, William?"

He hesitantly shook his head, and she moved her hands to the side of his face, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbones gently. He wanted to move her away, but his hands never even attempted to do so. 

"You have to remember now." she whispered, and he pulled back.

"I can't. Buffy already told you. I can't remember." she smiled, 

"Then don't"

"What?"

"See what I see, what I saw, see what you saw. See what you don't see, what you don't want to see. Look into my eyes..."

-

_"You're beneath me, William," Cecily Addams was laughing at him, His last spark of hope dimming, and an emptiness filled him. He felt so alone, and he knew no-one would love him. He raced out of the large hall, trying to hide his shame as tears streamed from his eyes. He wanted to go home. But he had no home. His house was empty. It wasn't his home anymore. His mother was hollow, and life felt pointless. No-one loved him. His mother looked at him with sadness in her eyes. Cecily looked at him with disgust. He had no friends, only people who laughed at him. And in that moment, he wanted to be reckless. He sat down on a hay bale in a barn he'd managed to make his way inside, and knew he was going to do something unusual, but where had usual ever gotten him._

_"And I wonder, what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven, and brought this dashing stranger to tears" A voice appeared from the dark, soothing and approachable. He quickly rubbed his eyes,_

_"Nothing. I wish to be alone." He told her, meaning the precise opposite, but knowing she'd leave him as they all did as soon as he told her this. Instead, she stepped closer._

_"I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strings. His visions. His glory. That and burning baby fish swimming all around him." She was confusing him, but stepping closer, and he suddenly became alarmed by the woman, standing up, and drawing away._

_"Er-now that's quite close enough." He told her, his heart beating heavily in his chest. She looked curious, and he thought he should explain somehow, "I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you." His words were heavy, but held no water, his fear growing as she stepped forward. He backed against a wall, and she curtseyed._

_"don't need a purse." she told him, "Your wealth lies here." She put her hand on his chest, staring into his eyes, "and here." she reached to his head, cradling the back of his skull in her hands. She took her hands away, "In your spirits, and...imagination." she caressed his leg, and he shuddered in fear and suspense._

_Her face was a small distance from his, and he became lost in her words. "You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine." Her eyes told him she was dangerous, but his heart leaped at the thought._

_"Yes." He responded, before he could stop himself, "I mean, no." he responded, correcting himself. Her closeness and his lack of an escape terrified him, and he rushed to find the words, "I mean..Mother's expecting me."She played with the collar of his suit, staring at his neck._

_"I see what you want." she told him, "Something glowing, and glistening, and something....effulgent." The use of his own words shocked and delighted him, a small smile appearing on his face as he clung onto her every word, knowing she was exactly what he wanted, she was perfect._

_"Do you want it?" she asked, her fingers lifting his chin up. He looked into her chocolate eyes and assented,_

_"Oh, yes." He held his hand unto her chest as she had, "God, yes." She looked down at his hand, and her head bobbed back up, her face changed. She had yellow eyes, turning into some kind of monster. He was taken aback by this, but stayed still as she leant to his neck, allowing her to..bite him? The feeling was unnerving, blood painfully seeping from him, and he shouted in pain. Then, darkness came._

_Maybe he was dead? Maybe he would finally see his sister, and they could have peace._

_But he wasn't dead. He was worse than dead, and far from peaceful._

_He was immortal._

_-_

"Did it work?" Buffy asked Drusilla, who turned to face her, blood pouring from her mouth. Buffy looked around to find a body, but only saw William's lifeless body, a newly opened bite mark on his neck. Her face morphed back, and she licked his blood off her lips, noticing Buffy, who looked both horrified and angry. 

"Did you- Did you kill him?" 

"No! I just reminded him of where he comes from. I showed him everything. When he wakes up, he'll remember all the nasty little things he did, and how I helped him, and he'll see me, slayer, not you." 

"He will remember me, won't he?"

"I did what the watcher told me to. I always do what I'm told." She licked her teeth, then added, "Except when I don't." She giggled, Buffy's headache growing as she was exasperated by the insane vampire. 

"Just give me an answer!"

Drusilla seemed taken aback by Buffy's sudden outburst, her face contorting into one of pain, beginning to bawl at her harsh words. Buffy rolled her eyes, sitting down, and waiting for the sobbing to stop. The despair of her crying means Buffy had to gather all of her strength to not hug Drusilla, since she looked just like Dawn, so alone and child-like. 

"You mustn't shout, Slayer, the birdies don't like it." she leaned into Buffy's ear, "and they whisper things to me. Nasty things about love and life. Telling me I won't play much longer if you get angry. They tell me that you can do too many things wrong, and end up making a mistake that'll destroy you all."

Buffy had no idea what Drusilla meant, but nodded like she knew exactly what she meant. 

"I won't shout, I promise. Just tell me if he'll remember me. I need him to. We need him. He knows things, and he's no use when he's William."

"The slayer doesn't know. She's been told, but she still doesn't know." she giggled.

"What don't I know, Drusilla?"

"That he is William."

"I know that, but we're trying to turn him back into Spike."

"There is no turning him back, Slayer."

"What? You mean, he won't get his memories back?"

"He might. He might not. It doesn't matter. He'll always be Spike. William. The fish which swim in his head don't ever leave, they just hide. And I'm showing them to him. All the little fishes which have hidden from him. They aren't dead, slayer. They never die. No matter how hard you fry them, they still squirm around, squiggly and cold, so so cold. They didn't hide themselves, Slayer. You know this."

Buffy found herself only half understanding Drusilla's words. 

"So..he'll remember everything he forgot?"

"All the fishes that need to be hidden will be shown."

Buffy peered down to Spike's body, which was now twitching, a sudden pang of sympathy ran through her. After all, he was reliving all of his darkest fears, and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.


	6. Lizzie

_"I'm going out this afternoon. Can you watch over the shop so I can get on with my work?" Percy looked expectantly at his employee. William's throat tightened, his breath unsteady._

_"I'm sorry. I don't work late. I can't. You know this." He told his boss, hoping he didn't want a more in depth reply. His hopes happened to be in vain, however, as Percy frowned,_

_"Look, Will, I appreciate that you have things to do, but can you just hold off on them for one night, and I promise this won't go to the board, and you'll keep your placement." It was a threat, all right, and William couldn't afford to lose his scholarship, his ticket to wealth and fame, purely for the sake of his home life. Besides, things would get worse if he ignored him. Still, he felt like it was wrong, he knew he needed to be with his family, and his breaths were shaky in his chest,_

_"Please. Don't do this." He pleaded, as tears shone in his icy blue eyes. The man shook his head,_

_"I'm sorry, Will, I have to go. Don't worry. I trust you." He shook his head, indicating he wasn't afraid of failure, but Percy's hat and coat were already swept away, and he hurried off into the bustling streets outside. William's tears rolled freely down his face as he called out into the cool air beyond, begging the man to come back as he sobbed, becoming more hysterical by the moment._

_-_

"Please. Don't do this." Spike's body was twitching nervously, his head hitting itself against the hardwood floor. Buffy left the steaming cups of coffee on the countertop, rushing over to the lifeless vampire. She tried to figure out what he was experiencing, but all she could see was how much he hated it, becoming more and more desperate for help. She wished she could help him, that she could wake him up, and tell him everything was ok. But it wasn't, and she couldn't, which only made her feel worse about the whole situation. Instead, she lifted his battered head off the ground, placing it gently onto her lap, and stroking his hair gently. He was still twitching, but her presence seemed to calm him down enough to stop thrashing his head around quite as much.

This was, until a horrifying scream exited his mouth, and he seemed to lose control, face contorted in pain, anger, and fear, tears streaming across his cheeks, his body convulsing involuntarily as Buffy tried to calm him, drawing closer to him, although he seemed to shift out of her way as soon as she touched him. He was mumbling incoherently, gasping desperately for air he didn't need and couldn't possibly feel. She sat, eyes fixed on his body, wishing she could do something, anything, to stop him from seeing whatever he was seeing. 

-

_William rushed home from the shop, his oversized shoes tripping him whilst he ran, faster than he ever achieved in school. His tears dried as he ran, and his heart slowed slightly. Everything was going to be ok now. He'd get back, and they'd all be ok, and they'd all have supper together. Mother would cook them beef stew, Lizzie's favourite, and they'd all be fine. Father would have passed out in the parlour, and everyone would be ok, so why was he running? He needed to slow down. Everything would be fine._

_Fumbling with his keys at the door, William burst in. The hallway didn't smell like beef stew. The parlour was empty. Everyone was not ok. Their father was thumping down the stairs, his shirt stained with blood, a long knife held at his side, dripping the liquid onto the freshly cleaned carpet. William shoved him aside, racing up the stairs, and into the room at the top. The familiar scent of jasmine was tainted with an unfamiliar, metallic smell. The smell originated from the corner of the room, and William held his breath as he approached the blood-soaked form in the corner of the room._

_William yelled in horror as he turned the figure over, only to find the lifeless ocean of his sister's eyes staring back at him. She wasn't moving. Her dark hair was matted onto her face, her white gown now covered with blood. He listened to her chest, but no breaths could be heard, nor the sound of her silly giggle, or even her frightened breath, heavy in her chest. Instead, there was silence. She just lay there, in his arms, his sister. His baby sister, who begged him to take her to the sweetshop, just to look at the sweets, because she knew they couldn't afford them. Who told him everything was okay when she was terrified herself. Who insisted that they let spiders out, despite being afraid of them, because 'no living thing deserves to die before its time, Will.' was dead._

**_"No living thing does deserve to die before its time, Will."_ ** _And yet, she did. She wasn't ready. She was supposed to eat dinner with them, to go to the sweetshop, to save all of the spiders. She was going to grow up, and become a nurse, and save people, just like she said she would. She wasn't the lifeless corpse resting on William's lap. She was his sister, fun, and happy, and gentle, and **alive.** _

_And yet she wasn't. She was gone. And a part of him was, too. He couldn't feel a thing._

_He didn't feel it when her tiny coffin rolled across the street, to an unmarked grave that no-one knew about. He didn't feel it when he won his scholarship. He didn't feel it when he tried, by calling out to any girl who'd listen. He didn't feel anything, and it petrified him._

_Until one night, he was approached by a dark-haired stranger in a barn, and he started to feel again._

_He felt it when they were together, when he was hated by his grand-sire. He felt it when he staked his mother, when he killed crowds of people for fun. he felt them as they died, and he relished it, because he knew it was the way of the world, and he felt like he had her back. He had Drusilla, who was as childish as her, and Angelus, who made him strong, like she did. And he had Darla, who giggled just like she used to._

_Except they weren't her. They were the opposite. They were cruel, and didn't care who died, even though he knew she always did. They took lives like Father took hers, and they giggled at all the wrong things. Angelus was crueller than father, and beat him even more. He took things, just like he used to, Drusilla didn't eat sweets, she ate girls as small as Lizzie, and as kind as mother. Darla didn't tell him everything was okay, but told him of all the damage they did._

_And now, he realised something he hadn't ever realised. She was really gone. And she wasn't coming back._

_The world went dark._

_And then, Spike woke up._


	7. Sleep

His eyes flew open, breath heavy in his chest. After a moment, he realised he hadn't had to breathe for over 200 years, but he couldn't stop, and his lungs were burning from the air, they weren't used to it, and he was, and he couldn't stop, and he wanted to, and he wanted it back, he wanted his life, he wanted Lizzie, and Mother, and he wanted London, and tea, and Cecily, and he wanted to live like a human being, to breathe, and to go into the sun, and to play, and laugh. He wanted to have children who didn't have fangs. He wanted to _live_ like a human, but more importantly, he wanted to _die_ like a human. 

He didn't want to end up a pile of dust, but a body, which actually looked like him. He didn't want to die from something holy, or the sun, or a stake to his heart. He wanted to die properly, from falling off a building, or being stabbed, or even _old age._ Oh, what he'd give to look his age, and to die from his heart stopping, to accept death as a deep sleep. But his heart had stopped beating a long time ago, his lungs ceasing their movement, and yet, he was still here. He wasn't in his grave, no matter how much he longed for it. He had crawled his way out of it, years ago, the bruises damaging more than just his knuckles. 

At the time, he had thought he was invincible, that his breathing had slowed him down, and because he was faster, and things hurt less to do, that he was immune. He had watched as they pillaged and plundered, biting and kicking and making people scream. He told them he loved it, and he did. But he wasn't supposed to doubt it, to lay awake in the day and stare at the shards of sunlight streaming in, and to hope he'd see them again. He wasn't supposed to think about the faces of those he'd killed, to see how they writhed as he poked them, and to think that maybe he damaged someone's sister, someone's brother, someone's mother. He was supposed to kill and move on, robotically, maniacally. But he wasn't built for that. Maybe he never was. 

He hadn't noticed Buffy's warm body wrapping around him, nor the soft stroke of fingers through his hair, but he had noticed his breathing stopping. He knew he was dead, and there was no good trying to pretend otherwise. She stopped quickly, noticing his lack of breath, and regained her composure, as if to pretend she didn't always do the right thing, and care for those who had were upset. And he was beyond this. He felt annoyed with the whole world, and he always had, but when it was laid out to him as easily as that, he couldn't ignore everything. He looked outside, and noticed it was dark. He swept his leather duster off the chair on which it sat, and stormed out of the place.

He couldn't go back to his crypt. It only reminded him of how dead he was, of how he'd never be a human. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to be with people, so he decided to go to the Bronze. He sat in the most isolated seat he could find, allowing the soft music to run through him, and watching as the others danced along to it, so carefree, and lively.

Spike made observations to himself, listening with ears that could pick up anything, and eyes that picked people out of a crowd, a nose like a dog, and enough experience to figure out exactly what they wanted. There was a girl in the middle, who was undeniably in love with the man she was dancing with, wearing way too much perfume to allow for any other scenario, and looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, whilst he was obviously cheating on her, the lingering fumes of his girlfriend's scent on his jacket. There was a man in the corner who had a gambling problem, sweating too nervously and clacking poker chips together in his coat pocket, and a woman who was working out how best to take his money, also sweating, but in a different way, focusing on his heavily credited suit jacket and going over to con him out of whatever he had left. 

_The world never changes_ , he thought to himself. There would always be cheaters, and there would always be honesty. There would always be gullible girls with guys who told them they'd work late and snuck to some girl's house, then lied their way into her heart. There would always be girls who did this too, and saw a guy with all of the riches in the world, and whispered secrets and pleasures they knew he wanted to hear until he handed her anything she wanted on a silver platter. Love could be blinding. 

He had been both, at different points. He had conned women out of their wallets, cars, and lives, and had made them beg for him to do it again. He'd cheated men the same way, although it required a little more persuasion. He'd convinced people of unbelievable things, and made them concerned for him, or angry at him, or both, and more. He'd been kind, and saved people, and he'd fallen in love too many times to count, and had always been surprised when they left. He's been angry, and concerned, and more. He'd craved attention worse than people he'd fooled, and had tried to get them to feel the same. He'd fallen to boys, girls, and people who were neither, and both, and he'd never gotten any more used to it. And he'd never seen the same care in their eyes, unlike a couple in the corner. 

Both of them were dressed up way too much to be in a nightclub, but didn't seem to care. They danced like idiots, making people around them laugh, which only seemed to make them dance harder, giggling to each other as people glared. They looked into each other's eyes, a glint in them no-one could fake. They looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the world, unhindered by poker chips or the smell of another person's perfume on their collars, no money between them, and a bond obvious by the way they danced. _That_ was love, and it was awful, and so easily corrupted by trust, or money, or death, and it hurt, and burnt, and took all your energy, and he wished he had it because it was horrible, and bloody, but it was beautiful and powerful, and he wanted someone who looked at him in that way, and didn't expect anything other than him. 

Lizzie had loved him. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't chaotic, but it was built on trust. She trusted him, and he trusted her. She'd known he'd always have her back, except he didn't. He stayed at work, and she died, with no-one there, and he never even said goodbye, or told him how much he loved her. Because he _did_ love her. And it wasn't a bond to be broken by cheating or money. She had loved him no matter what, and she'd love him if he had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, if he'd cheated, or became so much in debt everything crumbled around him. She loved him no matter what, and she trusted him to love her too, but when it came down to it, he wasn't there, and so her love burnt out, a pure light, so strong and beautiful, and she was gone, and it hurt more than ever, and it never stopped, whether it was two or two hundred years after her death, it would never stop, because he still cared. And he shouldn't, because he didn't have a soul, and he shouldn't, but he still loved her, and he knew he was wrong for staying at his job, and _that's_ why he died, and why he wasn't safely in his grave, and playing with her in heaven. 

He deserved it, and God knew it. And as he pulled the stake out of his heart, he knew he wouldn't see her. He knew he'd go to hell. But he didn't care. He was fed up of looking into their eyes, and seeing the pain he'd caused. The guilt hurt him, although he shouldn't have any guilt to feel. But as he drifted off, he knew he was broken, how she had made him slightly more than human, and how he had been slightly more than demon. And that was too much. As he watched the world disintegrate around him, he felt warm, and almost as if he wasn't alone. He heard her giggle, and tell him he was stupid, but he felt her hug him as the world faded. 

He opened his eyes, and saw the sun shine down on him. She tugged on his arm, and asked him to play. He was only too happy to oblige, and then they'd sleep. They'd both sleep, at last, together. 


End file.
